


And on the twelfth day of Christmas (a complete and total stranger sent to me)

by c00nt



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: (Basically Kara threatens Lena with a good time in the name of Holiday Cheer), Antics ensue abound, F/F, Her secret santa is wonderfully relentless, Lena Luthor is a bona fide grinch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00nt/pseuds/c00nt
Summary: Lena hates the holidays and she hates receiving anonymous gifts from a relentless secret santa... until she doesn't.





	And on the twelfth day of Christmas (a complete and total stranger sent to me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lukegrey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukegrey/gifts).



> The prompt called for a grinchy boss, daily cute gifts, and a reluctantly thawing heart... so here we are. 
> 
> Happy holidaze 💚

_friday._

It’s Friday. 

The official end of the work week for everyone in Lena’s employ, and everyone is all the more insufferable for it. 

They go through the same motions every week, which makes the whole routine as predictable as it is endlessly irritating. Gossip grows abound. Bold. Hushed office chatter now accommodating talk of potential weekend plans, dramatically reducing work productivity. 

And of course, it’s even worse during the holiday season. 

Casual outings ballooned into extravagant family reunions, public transport itinerary giving way to overpriced flight plans, casual greetings exchanged for that classic _Happy Holidays!—_ all marked with a heavy undercurrent of customary holiday cheer, and Lena honestly finds the whole matter  _entirely_ insufferable. 

So insufferable, in fact, that it drives her to leave two interns in tears, quite a few engineers soaked in sweat and terror, and absolutely everyone staying out of her way. It’s barely past noon when Lena decides that she’s had enough social interaction for the week, let alone a single _day._ And with that understanding, contrary to her Luthor upbringing and every single instinct brimming beneath her skin, Lena opts for a moment of self-care. 

At the moment of her decision, Jess scurries into her office as if on cue. 

“Jess. Fantastic. I was just about to call for you,” Lena says, brusquely cutting off her assistant. “Cancel the CatCo interview. I’m frankly done with being courteous for the day and I’m _really_ just not in the right headspace to cater to some young, sprightly journalist for this fluff piece…” She eventually trails off, eyes narrowing at Jess’s increasingly pained expression. “… _Yes?”_

“The CatCo rep is actually already here…” 

“You’re kidding me.” Lena checks her watch. “He’s _two_ hours early.” 

“Oh, um, well… _she…_ apparently has a prior engagement and asked to move up the interview,” Jess says cautiously. 

“And so, she’s going to cut into _my_ time instead.” Lena sighs and pinches at the bridge of her nose, where she can already feel a headache coming on. “Perfect.” 

“Would you like me to send her away? Maybe reschedule for another time?” 

“It’s already been one hell of a week,” Lena gripes. “What’s one more inconvenience? Send her in.” 

“Miss Luthor, if you’re really not feeling up to it, maybe it’s best that we reschedule,” Jess says, already pulling out her tablet. “This is for your public image, the upkeep of which—”

“Send. Her. _In.”_

Jess swallows. “Right away, Miss Luthor.” 

Lena grinds her jaw and rubs at her left temple up to the very moment the reporter walks in. Though she manages to extend a hand and a passably gracious greeting, Lena is already groaning internally at the woman's upbeat self-introduction. At this rate,  there's no way in _hell_ that this bespectacled perky blonde standing now before her wouldn't inadvertently stomp out the last dregs of Lena's patience. 

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, Miss Luthor,” the reporter says, fiddling with both her notepad and glasses. The notepad appears barely used, which somehow only irritates Lena further. 

“Well, I always have time for…” Lena gestures vaguely in the air. “… CatCo, I suppose.” 

The reporter’s grin seems to flicker at Lena's words, but it never quite fades. Not even with the awkward pause that follows the rather disdainful tone. 

Lena is forced to clear her throat. “Ready whenever you are, Miss Danvers.” 

“You can call me _Kara_ if it would make you more comfortable,” the reporter is quick to reassure her.

And Lena is quick to reassure right back that, “Miss Danvers is just fine.” 

The smile on Miss Danvers's face only seems to widen with the challenge. “All right. Why don’t we get started then?” she says, flipping her notepad open. “How do you feel about the fact that you’ve singlehandedly forever changed the course of this formerly notorious company?”

Lena has to stifle a snort. “Gotta say… not quite the softball I was expecting.”

“Answer the question, Miss Luthor,” the reporter says, cheerful grin still in place. 

“Some steel underneath that pink cardigan…” Lena says in a drawl, raising an eyebrow. Miss Danvers barely reacts. “Changing the course… You mean, when I changed it from its ‘murdering world domination’ direction?” 

Miss Danvers gives a courteous chuckle, but leaves an extended awkward silence for Lena to once again fill. 

“I can tell you that most of the people who share my last name wouldn’t approve,” Lena finally says. “And I think that’s a good thing.” 

Miss Danvers nods and crosses one leg over the other, treating Lena to a flash of a very casual boat shoe. The informal footwear fails to put Lena at ease. “So, I take it that you’re not going home for the holidays then?” 

“I’m not really a _family_ person.” 

“Friends?” 

“Miss Danvers,” Lena says in a low sigh. “I have my job. It’s very demanding. Even more so during the holidays because I have to personally pick up the slack for countless employees who apparently have better things to do. Better _families_ to go see and be merry with.” Lena settles herself down with a quick breath, barely stifling the urge to rub at her pounding temple. “That is to say, I barely have enough time and energy for my job. What makes you think I have room for friends?” 

“It sounds like you could use a break,” Miss Danvers says softly. 

Lena laughs, somewhat less bitterly than she feels. “Oh, I wouldn’t survive that. And neither would the company.” 

“But you should try _something,_ at the very least. Self-care is very important,” Miss Danvers insists, and the whole notion is laughable, considering how Lena’s one attempt at self-care had been dashed by this very current proponent of it. 

“Miss Danvers, I must admit that I don't see the point of this line of questioning, if we can even call it that.” Lena rises to her feet with her arms crossed, not so subtly signaling an end to the conversation. “I think you have more than enough for your article. I’m sure you can fill in the rest.” 

For one brief but acutely charged moment, Miss Danvers just stares up at Lena with an unwavering blue gaze. Then her face splits into a dangerously wide smile and she slowly gets to her feet as well. “All right, Miss Luthor. I’ll get out of your hair for now. It’s obvious that you’re a very busy woman.” 

Miss Danvers holds out her hand and Lena gladly takes it, eager to send the reporter on her way. But after pumping Lena’s hand the appropriate number of times, Miss Danvers just holds on, grip growing firmer. Lena tries to subtly extricate her hand, but to no avail. 

“Could I offer you a bit of advice?” 

“By all means,” Lena says, voice somewhat strained.  She’s now tugging her hand so hard that the other woman _has_ to have noticed, but Miss Danvers doesn’t budge one bit.

Instead, she says, “My advice is… try to enjoy the little things in life."

“What a _sound_ platitude indeed.”

Then to Lena’s great surprise, Miss Danvers yanks at her hand, bringing them almost face to face. She tilts her head down at Lena and flashes her the brightest of smiles. “Thank you for speaking with me,” she says simply, before finally releasing her grip. 

Lena stumbles backwards, drawing both her hands back to her desk, just in case. “Of course. Anytime.” 

“And Happy Holidays, Miss Luthor!” Miss Danvers exclaims, pausing at Lena’s door, seemingly as a jolly afterthought. 

“Goodbye, Miss Danvers,” Lena says, and all but slumps back into her chair once the reporter takes her leave. 

So... perhaps today wasn’t the most ideal day for an interview, and perhaps Lena wasn’t as cordial or diplomatic as she normally could have pretended to be, but there are other things on her mind. 

More important things like late expense reports, her upcoming conference calls with the investors from Tokyo, and her current lack of sleep coupled with the imminent lack of sleep that's to come with the weekend. And if that means that Lena has lost favor with one of the many media outlets located in National City, so be it.

* * *

  _saturday._

Lena wakes up at 5:25 sharp and gets to work, only pausing for coffee and some leftovers when her vision starts to blur. She takes a shower around eight, orders Thai takeout at two, then has a glass of red wine and reheated Thai food at some point after ten. 

Throughout the day, Lena works. Flipping through papers and files, typing away at her laptop, fielding important phone calls, and generally catching up on all the work that should have gotten done over the past week.

* * *

_ sunday. _

Lena marks up her final project proposal around noon and sends off all the documents to Jess for some last-minute proofreading before stumbling into bed still clad in yesterday's clothes. 

* * *

_monday._

Lena marches into the building with her phone in hand and eyes glued to the screen, and everyone avoids stumbling into her path. She barely acknowledges her assistant’s indistinct greeting, flicking one hand in some semblance of a wave, as she steps into her office. 

It isn’t until she’s already two steps past her desk that Lena realizes that an unexpected glint has caught her attention. Something tiny and vaguely metallic, twinkling with the sunlight that streams through the window. 

Lena takes a full-on pause and stares. 

A single Hershey Kiss.  Wrapped in cheap silver foil, sitting on her desk as if in anticipation of her arrival. 

Eyes narrowing ever so slightly, Lena uses two fingers to slide the chocolate across her desk until it’s over the edge and deposited neatly into her wastebasket. She’s already forgotten about it by the time she sits down, tugging her laptop closer as she calls out her usual coffee order to Jess.

* * *

_tuesday._

This time when Lena walks into her office, there’s no need for a double-take because now there's an entire _handful_ of Hershey Kisses gathered atop her desk. With a low growl, Lena sweeps the lot into the trash, gritting her teeth at the muted pitter patter of the falling chocolates. 

She jabs at the intercom and barks into it, _“Jess!”_

“Yes, Miss Luthor?” comes the ever measured reply. 

“Can you send out a memo to the janitorial staff?” Lena says, exasperated, already sorting through the various folders left in her in-tray. “I don’t mind if they snack on the job, but there’s been food left on my desk for the past two days now, and that’s unacceptable.” 

“Of course, Miss Luthor.” 

For the next two hours, Lena’s thoughts periodically drift back to the chocolates and how _irritable_ she had felt at the very sight of them. Though she tries not to let any lingering frustration bleed over to her business meetings, some of her employees definitely catch the very tail end of it.

But by the time Lena’s head hits her pillow that night, a quarter tumbler of whiskey still burning in her stomach, she’s all but forgotten about the sweets…

* * *

  _wednesday._

... Until the following day when Lena is once more greeted with the sight of silver tinfoil topped off with a wispy white strip denoting _KISSES._

Except it's a big one this time. About thrice the size of the fist Lena makes upon seeing it. 

_“Oh, for the love of—”_ Lena grumbles under her breath, stepping quickly to the object of her disaffection, with half a mind to fling it right out the window… when a bright post-it note stops her in her tracks. 

The note is neon pink and garish, though the color isn’t nearly as jarring as the giant bold letters scrawled across it. 

_THIS IS FOR_ **_YOU!_ **

Lena stares. Then blinks. Then lowers her hand. She doesn’t even bother with the intercom this time. 

_“Jess!”_ Lena shouts, and she’s almost alarmed at the sharp quality of her own voice. But this? This is a surprise and Lena Luthor—as someone whose life has been threatened time and time again—absolutely _detests_ surprises. 

Jess stumbles into the office, her heels practically skidding across the floor, and to her credit, Lena has lived through enough quarterly assassination attempts to not warrant such an extreme reaction. _“Yes, Miss Luthor?”_ Then Jess’s shoulders slowly unwind, the knee-jerk panic settling as she notes that Lena's not in any immediate danger. “Is… something wrong?” 

“Is this meant to be a joke?” Lena demands, throwing her hand at the offending item in question. “Or a _threat?”_

“I…” Jess’s eyes squint as they follow Lena’s wild gesticulation before finally landing on the chocolate. “… don’t… think so; is that a giant Hershey's Kiss?” 

_“Apparently,”_ Lena huffs. “Did you talk to the cleaning staff? Because this is one step too far and I’m _fully_ prepared to—”

“Miss Luthor,” Jess quickly cuts in. _“Of course_ I did, and the janitors work on rotating shifts. In the last three days, three _different_ people cleaned your office.” 

“I’m supposed to believe that there are three _separate_ individuals who have the same affinity for Hershey's chocolates?” 

“Lots of people like chocolate, Miss Luthor.”

Lena purses her lips. “This wasn’t your doing, was it? Because if so, the right time to come clean would have been two days ago.” 

“It _wasn’t_ me,” Jess says, her tone marked with irritation, somehow both mild and poorly concealed. “Why would I do this?” 

“Well, it’s definitely a threat then,” Lena concludes. 

“How can you be sure?” 

Lena scowls as she pinches the very tip of the Kiss, spinning it around until the post-it note is in plain view. 

Upon seeing the message, Jess just gives a long and quiet sigh. “It looks like a gift, Miss Luthor,” she says. “And given the time of year—”

Lena impatiently waves off the rest of the sentence. “I don’t _care_. For all I know, this could be poisoned.” 

“Would you like me to send for a chemical test?” Jess is already turning to do just that when Lena flaps her hand again. 

“No, no. It’s… fine.” Lena glares down at the silver conical bane of her existence for a long moment. “Do you want it?” 

“You’re… gifting me the poisoned chocolate?” 

“It’s probably _not_ poisoned,” Lena says, just short of snapping. “That was just me being… you know...” She trails off, and Jess is smart and well-paid enough to let her do so. Lena pushes the chocolate over with a single finger. “Take it.” 

Jess does, shaking her head slightly. “I can’t believe that your secret santa found the _one_ person on Earth who doesn’t like chocolate…” 

Lena bristles. “Secret… _santa?”_

“Would you prefer ‘secret admirer’?” 

“… No.” Lena then sighs and shoos Jess away, only to call after the assistant again as an afterthought, “But for the record? I don’t like _cheap_ chocolate.” 

“Of course, Miss Luthor.” 

Jess is already halfway out the door, but by now Lena’s gotten to know her well enough to recognize the implicit eyeroll in her tone.

* * *

  _thursday_. 

Lena hesitates briefly at her door, eyes peeled for any hint of twinkling tinfoil… and there isn’t any to be found because why would there be? 

But as Lena approaches her desk, she soon discovers that surprises—especially the ones of the chocolatey variety—can come in many shapes and forms. 

The box is small and slightly weighty, its glossy maroon surface marked with a French script grooved in gold ink. And peeking out from underneath the box is a plain receipt with the total— _55.84€_ —circled in red. 

An amused grunt leaves Lena’s lips. 

Sure, it's not the most expensive chocolate out there, but it’s certainly not cheap either. A single Google search is all it takes to determine that the chocolates come from a very exclusive boutique in one of the more upscale corners of Paris. 

Lena chews on her lower lip, drums her fingers on her desk as she thinks. She retraces her steps back to the door and pokes her head out. 

Jess interrupts her, not even looking up from her tablet. “It wasn’t me, Miss Luthor.” 

Lena hums, spins on her heel, takes one step… before turning back around to—

“Not the cleaning staff either.” 

“Well, it was _somebody,”_ Lena insists, and Jess just continues to work in silence, perfectly content to let her boss stew in her accusation in the meantime. Lena’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she presses forward again, “Do you really think that it’s a secret…”

“… Santa?” Jess supplies wryly. 

“Yes. Sure. _That,”_ Lena says. “If I’m to take you at your word when you say it wasn't you—”

“It’s _not,_ Miss Luthor.” 

“—then it has to be _someone_ who knew that I didn’t take to the first three attempts,” Lena continues rather thoughtfully. “But how? It can’t be through mechanical surveillance because we sweep for bugs at least twice a day… But any one of the employees on this floor could have been bribed for information…” 

Lena looks around the room with unfettered suspicion, eyes especially trained on a pair of chatty interns who quickly scatter at the attention. She tries and fails to place their names, and their faces have already been reduced to simple blurs in her memory. Teenagers are so fast these days. Athletic. Nimble. _Sneaky..._

“It’s not only information though,” Lena says as soon as the thought occurs to her. “They’re also finding a way to get the chocolates onto my desk without anyone noticing. _Also,_ they must have the resources to get fancy chocolates shipped from Europe overnight because I highly doubt that anyone has these things just _laying_ arou—”

“Miss Luthor!” Jess finally looks up from her desk with a bright, clearly forced smile. “I actually have some work to do. I’m sure you do as well.” 

“… I do. Oh, I do,” Lena says. She straightens up, more than slightly horrified at herself. “Yes. I’m… at work. I’m going to go work now.” 

“What a great idea,” Jess says, her tone painfully even. “I’ll hold all your calls until lunchtime and you have a conference call at two.” 

“Great. That sounds… great.” 

“Great.” 

Lena shakes her head as she returns to her office. She keeps the box of chocolates—receipt and all—in her desk drawer and out of her head until the end of the workday. 

She’s alone in her office when she retrieves the box. Alone when she tries a piece of chocolate, closing her eyes with a pleased hum at the dark, rich, slightly bitter taste spreading across her tongue. Alone when she fingers the receipt, snorting once more at the red circle drawn around the price. 

Maybe it’s because she’s alone that it doesn’t seem quite so silly to turn that receipt over and scrawl a quick _Thank you_ before dropping it on her desk as she leaves. And a half-hour later, when Lena is savoring the rest of the chocolates with a glass of wine, she finds that she doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

* * *

_ friday. _

It doesn’t surprise Lena to see another gift waiting for her at her desk. She doesn’t badger Jess about the cleaning staff either.

It’s still chocolate. But instead of a tiny box of extravagant delicacies, it’s a small fabric bag cinched off with red and green lace—lest Lena forget what season they’re in—filled with chocolate covered strawberries. No receipts this time, but there is a note that reads:  _You’re welcome. Enjoy!_

Lena shares the strawberries with Jess, who seems perfectly content to put off her duties and listen to Lena ramble on about her latest theories about her secret santa as long as there’s some sweets in it for her. When one of the interns Lena was studiously observing the other day comes up to ask for the CEO’s approval on a potential project, sweating profusely and wracked with slight tremors, Lena not only signs the form with her blessings, but she offers the intern a chocolate strawberry. He nearly falls over in relief. 

The rest of the day moves smoothly and Lena is pleased enough that she lets everyone leave an hour early, to get a head-start on their weekend. It’s clear that more than a few of her employees are tempted to question her intentions, but none do. 

Jess is the last to leave, pausing at Lena’s door to wish her a good night, and Lena greets the newfound silence of the office with a generous splash of whiskey. And another. And another. Until the alcohol gradually loosens not only her tongue but the ink in her pen, and she writes a rather sloppy message underneath her secret santa’s neat hand: 

_Must all your gifts be of the edible variety?  
A girl’s gotta watch her figure, you know._

Lena takes a taxi home, tips the driver quite generously, and passes out in her bed still wearing all her clothes and a single heel.  

* * *

  _saturday._

Lena wakes up around five in the morning with a dry mouth and bleary eyes. She drinks two and a half glasses of water, scrubs her face clean, strips down to her underwear, and climbs back into bed. 

She sleeps in for the first time in nearly six months.

* * *

_sunday_.

The click clacks of Lena’s heels echo in the empty hallways as she makes her way to her office. Not for the first time since waking, Lena berates herself for having been so careless— _liquored up—_ that she had forgotten to bring home her laptop and with it, all the work she had been meaning to wade through over the weekend. 

When she walks through the door, Lena can’t help but sweep her eyes to her desk by force of habit. But there’s nothing there. Of course there isn’t. Given the present circumstances—a lazy Sunday afternoon in a largely unoccupied building—it would have been stranger if there _had_ been a gift waiting for her. 

So, Lena chases away the unwarranted disappointment with the logic of it all and gets back to the official reason for her visit, packing away her laptop, collecting various folders and files.

That’s when Kara Danvers strolls into her office through the balcony door. 

Lena freezes at the sight of the near stranger, as does Miss Danvers as soon as their eyes meet. Then with a gasp and a slight stumble backwards, the reporter whips both her hands behind her back. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she blurts out, and Lena could almost laugh. 

_“You’re_ not supposed to be here,” Lena says, her voice nigh hysterical. _“I…_ work here.” 

“During _work_ hours,” Miss Danvers shoots right back. “Today’s not even a work _day!”_ She throws a hand up in emphasis and Lena spies a tiny slip of paper crumpled in her grasp before the reporter remembers herself and snatches it behind her back again. “You’re not supposed to be here…” she repeats almost petulantly. 

“I think we’re well past _that.”_ Lena straightens up then, with her arms crossed, chin lifted slightly. “What do you have behind your back?” 

Paling cheeks flush pink, and Miss Danvers is shaking her head with a nervous chuckle. “You know what? You’re right. _I'm..._ not supposed to be here, so I’m just gonna…” She starts inching back toward the balcony, hands still firmly out of view. 

“Miss Danvers, you can’t be serious…” Lena starts, rolling her eyes as she follows the woman onto the balcony. “Surely, there’s a reasonable explanation for— _No, don’t do that!”_

Lena breaks out into a full-out run as best she can in her heels, but it’s too late. The clumsy reporter has already scrambled over the railing and out of view, and before Lena could stop herself, she’s tumbling right after her. 

The next few moments are just a series of disjointed corporeal sensations. Her stomach lurching in accordance with gravity. Her skin erupting in goosebumps in the cold air. Her shoulder socket burning as it’s forced to bear all her weight without warning… 

Lena moves her gaze skyward and focuses on the strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, the only hindrance to her plummeting nearly 50 stories to her sure death. She moves her gaze even higher, bypassing Miss Danvers’s steadily paling face to take in the delicate pink orchid clutched in her other hand, which... was incidentally not hanging onto _anything_ at all because apparently hovering midair was well within this reporter's capabilities. 

“What’s that?” Lena asks, nodding up at the flower. 

Miss Danvers sighs and hangs her head. “… Something... not edible.” 

“Ah. Of course.” Lena nods to herself as she looks down at the city streets, then back up at the crestfallen expression still directed down at her. “So… you're my secret santa?”

“… Surprise…?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ whythinktoomuch on tumblr, folks.


End file.
